


Uncle Victor

by brightclam



Category: Logan (2017) - Fandom, X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Dubious Morality, Gen, Unreliable Narrator, am i missing the fandom tag or is this the first fic for logan posted on ao3???, hahaha victor as a responsible adult, he starts trailing laura and logan as they make their trip, hes not too bad tho, laura is fucked up, once logan is gone he takes over as the kid's responsible adult, sabretooth isn't a good guy but being in the apocalypse changes people, sabretooth survives just like logan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 00:57:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10374228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightclam/pseuds/brightclam
Summary: Sabretooth survived by hiding. But when rumors of Wolverine draw him out of his human life, he ends up signing up for more than he expected. Like adopting a whole bunch of kids.





	1. family road trip

**Author's Note:**

> So, this sabretooth is like comic sabretooth dropped into the movie. And if I remember right, he and logan are brothers, and logan is called james and their family name was Howlett. But I haven't read marvel comics in at least two years, so I'm just going to hope that's right.
> 
> tw: gore, death (of course)

\--------  
They tell their lies  
And we all synchronize  
Look to the sky  
Because it's almost over.   
(Absolute, Thousand Foot Krutch)  
\--------

Sabretooth had never been a good man. He'd killed, and had never regretted it. He'd hated James, fought the X-men. He'd been an assassin and a murderer.

 

But when the world changed, he changed with it. 

 

The X-men and the brotherhood died at Westminster when Xavier had his first seizure. The most powerful mutants in the world just keeled over and died. 

 

When he heard about it, he knew.

 

He's always had good senses; he felt that the world has changed.  So, he called on his contacts, trying to figure out was going on. But by then the army was hunting. He went from contact to contact. Some of them were dead when he got there, some of them were attacked while he was there.

 

They fought, of course, but these men weren't trying to capture mutants. And his contacts weren't as bullet resistant as he was. 

 

Over time, he stopped finding them alive and just found them dead, small chunks taken out of them, like their murderers are taking samples.

 

Eventually, he runs out of contacts.

 

Before the world changed, he thought of them as allies. Now, he thinks of them as friends. Death never bothered him before, but he's getting tired of dead bodies.  He wants to be with someone, speak with someone.

 

So he starts finding any mutants he can. Smelling them out and hunting them down. But the army men usually get there first, and even when they don't, they show up a few minutes after him.

 

Sabretooth learns to run from them, rather than fight. He learns to hide, move through the world unseen.

 

He watches as they announce the new, mandatory growth hormones. Watches as they put the giant machines in the fields. 

 

There's some public outcry, but not enough. Most people don't think it means anything, but Victor knows better than that. Give them the ability to drug the world, and they'll take advantage of it.

 

Victor begins hunting the weakest mutants, the ones who don't even know that they are mutants. The ones who managed to hide, who have human spouses or children crying over their bodies when he gets there too late. 

 

He begins to mourn them. He begins to hate death, hate the smell of blood, hate the blank eyes of dead bodies. He doesn't attack people unless he has to.

 

Before, he fueled himself with death, gloried in it. But now the world's stuffed him full of death, gorged him on it, and he's choking.

 

Magneto escaped Westminster because of his helmet. He hangs on for a while, gathers more and more followers as the world becomes more anti-mutant. There's a suspicious lull in mutant births.

 

Victor travels miles and miles, drives from town to town. He barely smells mutants anymore. When he does, usually it's old and stale, like the mutants had died weeks ago. 

 

When he follows the stale scents sometimes he finds empty, bleached clean rooms. Sometimes he finds rotting bodies instead.

 

Magneto continues to fight, massacring soldiers or anyone at all. But his followers die, and die, and die, until there are none left. There are no new mutants to take their places.

 

One day, Magneto attacks the facility that designed the growth hormones, that distributes them. Mystique is the only mutant left at his side. 

 

As he tears metal buildings apart, he screams that the hormones are poison, that they're what has stopped the mutants. He rants and froths at the mouth until a soldier with a plastic gun puts him down.

 

What he said makes sense. Put the hormones in the food that everyone eats, solve your problem real easy. No new mutants. Kill all the old ones, then there will be no mutants at all.

 

After he watches Magneto and Mystique die, Victor stops hunting, stops traveling.

 

He finds a tiny town where no one ever visits and settles. He shaves off his signature sideburns, grows out his hair to hide his face, files down his fangs, clips his claws daily so that they stay round and human.

 

He works in a machine shop, rents an apartment, lives small and thinks small.

 

Until he hears rumors of Wolverine driving down in El Paso. He's not surprised that James is still alive, he always was a survivor. 

 

He takes the massive amount of vacation days he's built up and rents a car. He drives down to El Paso. On the way, he pries his dull fangs out of his gums so that they'll grow back sharp. He stops cutting his nails and soon he has his claws back.

 

As soon as he's in the city limits he can smell them.

 

It's been so long since he smelled mutants that his nose burns with the rankness of it. There's got to be more than one, and close together.  

 

He's tracked the scent to an abandoned grain factory when the army men arrive. There's a limousine trying to escape them, but it's cornered. When it stops, James steps out.

 

Victor stays quiet, flattens himself to the ground, pulls the disgusting blanket he's using to mask his scent over himself. If James smells him, who knows what'll happen?

 

James and the douchebag with the metal arm argue for a moment. It doesn't make any sense to Victor; something about calling. Then a few soldiers peel off and head into the building.

 

There's screaming and gunfire. Victor closes his eyes and spends a moment mourning for the dead mutants inside. Then he opens them again, watching for the soldiers to return.

 

They don't. A small girl walks out instead. She throws a severed head at douchebag’s feet. He misses most of the fight, his head spinning with the claws she'd popped out of her knuckles.

 

_ A new mutant. How? _

 

Then James is fighting, roaring with rage. The pair slaughter most of the soldiers and flee in the limo. Victor gives the soldiers time to to leave in pursuit and then follows. He keeps his motorcycle out of sight, watches as the limo goes over the rails.

 

His breath stops until he sees that they've made it too the other side. Maybe it's because he's so lonely, or maybe he really has changed, but he feels concern for his brother and the feisty little mutant.

 

He wants to help protect her. But James won't let him, not after years spent fighting each other. Not in this new, paranoid world. So, once he makes it over the tracks, he latches onto their scent and follows at a safe distance.

 

When they stop in the farmer’s house, he wonders if James has gone crazy. Surely he knows that staying here will end badly. But he can't exactly tell James how stupid he's being, so he sits and waits for the inevitable attack.

 

He didn't expect the clones. There’s two, wearing his brother’s face. They growl at the same pitch, unsheath their claws in unison. He snarls at them with his regrown fangs and bears his newly sharpened claws. 

 

He leaps at the first one, buries his claws in it’s stomach and tears a chunk of its shoulder out with his teeth. 

 

It strikes out, stabs him through the chest. He feels the claws slide past his ribs and into his lungs. He begins to choke on his own blood.

 

The other set of claws slices his throat open. He gurgles, struggles to breath. He tears the clone’s internal organs to pieces. As soon as his throat heals enough for him to move his jaw, he moves from the clone’s shoulder to his neck.

 

He rips James’s esophagus out, sends blood flying. The clone howls and rips his back open, adamantium claws digging into his spine. He digs deep enough that Victor feels his legs tingle, then go blank. He can't move them.

 

_ Goddamn paralysis. The bastard. _

 

He uses the sudden dead weight against the clone. He's always been bigger and heavier than James. He throws that weight against the clone, sends him toppling backwards and into a small lake.

 

He shoves the clone’s head underwater. He rips Victor’s stomach open, sends his intestines spilling out. Victor doesn't let go. 

 

He shifts one hand to the clone's chest and stabs through his sternum. He digs around until he’s pretty sure he's shredded the clone's windpipe and one of his lungs. Then he cuts open his throat. 

 

With those wounds, his lungs and throat will fill with water. Their healing factor can undo most of the brain damage that results from drowning, but it can only keep up for so long.

 

Filling the clone's lungs with water speeds up the process, but he still has to hold the clone down for almost ten minutes. From the house, he hears gunshots and screaming. 

 

One of the clones made it past him. The screaming turns into desperate howling of a little girl. Finally, the clone goes still. Sabretooth holds him under for a couple more minutes, just in case. That gives his healing factor time to stitch his spine back together.

 

He runs for the house. There's an explosion, and the girl’s still screaming. By the time Victor arrives, James is carrying the girl into the car. 

 

He peels off a moment later, leaving the other clone pinned to a excavator. There's a pair of hostiles lying by the burning truck. One’s the douchebag from El Paso and the other wears a white doctor’s coat.

 

_ Doctors are always bad news. _

 

He slips back into the darkness, passes the corpse in the lake. He kicks it in deeper, hopes the doctor won't wonder where his other murder machine ended up. 

 

He gets back on the motorcycle and follows James’s scent. It's weaker now, with a stale edge to it. Something in him sinks; one of James’s party has died.

 

He stops when James does, in a lush, green place. He smells fresh dirt; James must be digging the dead person a grave. He sees James come out of the woods, bloody and tired-looking. 

 

He tries to start the car but fails. He screams and attacks the car in rage. The girl watches emotionlessly. After breaking the mirror off of the car, James collapses.

 

Sabretooth hisses in concern. The girls stares.

 

_ This may be a bad decision, but I've got to help them. _

 

He steps out of the forest slowly; he doesn't want to alarm the girl, though she may have already have scented him. He purposely steps on a stick, letting it crack loudly. The girl pivots to look at him.

 

She wrinkles her nose, sniffs the air a couple times. She's laser focused, looking him over from head to toe. Her eyes linger on his throat, his stomach, the soft spots on his body.

 

“You smell weird. I've smelled this a little bit before. Have you been following us?”

 

He bares his throat and tosses his head to throw his hair back, revealing his face. He keeps his lips closed over his fangs and his hands loosely held at his side, as nonthreatening as possible.

 

She's a perceptive little thing, he needs to be careful.

 

_ I might have to tell her the truth. _

 

“Yes, I've been following you. But I want to help, not hurt you.”

 

“If you want to help, then why hide?”

 

“You're protector doesn't like me. He wouldn't let me help.”

 

She narrows her eyes, but seems to accept that. She shrugs and turns back to James. 

 

“There’s a man with a car on the other side of the lake. We need to take it, ours doesn't work anymore.”

 

_ Smart girl. _

 

“You go get the car, I'll carry James. Okay?”

 

She nods and heads into the forest. He runs to James's side and carefully lifts him, trying not to irritate his wounds.

 

_ They aren't healing like they should. What's wrong with him? _

 

He follows the girl’s scent trail into the forest. There's a fresh grave, and beyond it, on the other side of the lake, there's a car. The girl growls, claws out, chasing a cowering man and his dog away from the frumpy blue car.

 

Sabretooth bares his fangs in a vicious, satisfied smile.

 

_ She's a Howlett for sure. _

 

He wades around the swampy edge of the lake, making his way to the car. She's chased the man far enough away and is sitting in the driver’s seat. As he approaches, she looks out the window and jingles the keys at him.

 

She smiles, a devious, too-old expression on her child’s face. He smiles back, still keeping his lips closed over his fangs. 

 

He gets James settled in the back seat and turns back to the girl.

 

“I know the way to the nearest town where he can get treated. Let me get my motorcycle, I'll lead you there.”

 

She nods. He makes his way back to the motorcycle, the girl driving slowly behind him. He starts it and pulls out onto the road. She begins to trail him and they leave the wreck of their old car behind.

 

They reach the town and Victor pulls into the first urgent care he sees. The girl pulls in after him and parks cleanly. 

 

_ I wonder where she learned to drive. _

 

He carries James inside. The nurses inside turn into a flurry of activity as soon as they see James's wounds. The doctor comes out and takes James, gesturing them into the seats lining the waiting room.

 

Victor sits down. He's finding it difficult to leave, but it's okay for now; James won't wake up for a while. The girl settles in next to him and fixes her intent gaze on him again.

 

“Why did you call him James? Everyone else called him Logan.”

 

“I knew him when he was younger. He used James then, but he must have changed it now. I'll call him Logan.”

 

“You don't want me to tell him you helped me, do you.”

 

“No, I'd rather you didn't.”

 

“Will you still follow us? Will you still be out there?”

 

Victor sees the opportunity to leave and stands up, smiling down at her. 

 

“I'll be there if you need me. But I have to leave now.”

 

She nods and smiles back. As he’s leaving, he turns back to look at her. She's grabbed a fashion magazine from one of the end table and it looking at it with disgust.

 

He's gotten too attached already.

 

He drives to the outskirts of the town and waits for their car to come out. It takes a while, but they do drive past him eventually.

 

They drive through the dusty desert, the blue car in front of him swerving more and more, as if Logan is falling asleep at the wheel. Finally, the car pulls to a stop.

 

He waits a couple minutes, but the car doesn't move. He knows, logically, that they're probably just resting. Probably, everything is fine. 

 

But he's overprotective and his fear is overwriting his common sense. He gets off his motorcycle and approaches slowly. If Logan is awake in there, he will have scented Victor by now.

 

But he doesn't come charging out, so something must be wrong. Victor hurries to the driver’s window and peers in. Logan is slumped over, eyes closed, but he still breathing, so he must be asleep. 

 

The girl sits in the passenger seat, Logan’s head on her shoulder, staring out over the horizon. When he taps on the window, she turns to look at him. She waves and reaches over to roll the window down.

 

“Why did you stop? Is something wrong with Logan?”

 

“He did not want to rest. He will work himself to death if I let him. I let him fall asleep and stopped the car.”

 

Victor breaths out a sigh of relief. He hasn't slept for days either; He lets himself sag against the warm metal of the car’s side. They sit there in a pleasant silence until it's broke by the loud grumbling of the girl's stomach.

 

She seems unconcerned, but Victor isn't going to let her go hungry. He knocks on the window again to get her attention and tells her:

 

“I'm going hunting.”

 

She nods and goes back to cradling Logan. Victor turns away from her and walks into the desert. 

 

It's a pretty empty place, but he can smell a few animals. He manages to flush out a hare, but misses it. It's been a while since he had to hunt like this; he's rusty. He gets the second one though, and carries it back to the car.

 

He guts and skins it and starts a fire. The girl doesn't get out of the car; she doesn't want to wake Logan up. Even when the mouthwatering smell of cooking meat wafts over to her, she doesn't move.

 

He finishes cooking the meat and brings it to her. He admires her dedication and determination; she wasn't going to move from Logan unless something dragged her away.

 

She looks grateful when he hands it to her, and digs in desperately. He's given most of it to her, she needs it more, but he kept a little for himself as well. He's been running on empty for the last few days, his energy reserves are very low.

 

They sit in comfortable silence as the sun goes down. Once the desert has fallen into blue toned darkness, the girl shifts. 

 

“I'm going to drive now.”

 

Probably, he shouldn't let her. But, from what he'd seen, she knows how to, and Logan does need to rest. He could drive, but the resulting fight when Logan wakes up might be more dangerous than just letting the girl drive.

 

And, he thinks as she glares at him, there's no guarantee he would listen to him if he told her not to drive.

 

“Alright then, I'll get back to my bike.”

 

As he turns to leave he realizes he hasn't introduced himself. He and the girl aren't exactly working off of human social convention, more off of instinct and necessity, but it's polite to give her his name.

 

“I never did introduce myself, I’m Victor Creed. What's your name?”

 

She smiles at him as she steps out of the car. 

 

“My name is Laura.”

 

She extends a hand to shake. He takes it, grinning as he does. She's quite the charming child. He forgets to hide his fangs, but she doesn't seem disturbed.

 

“It's nice to meet you, Laura.”

 

She nods and walks around of the front of the car to get to the driver’s seat. He steps back as she takes the seat and starts the engine. She slowly pulls out, and he walks through the dust cloud she kicks up to his bike.

 

He follows her through the dark, enjoying the cold air on his skin. Eventually, The sun begins to rise, spreading beautiful pinks and oranges across the sky.

 

The car drives until the sun is high in the sky and the sands are baking hot. Victor slumps on his bike; he's been driving nonstop for days. Laura and Logan can at least switch off, but he's alone.

 

He doesn't even know where they're going, how much longer he has to drive. He considers going up to the window and asking Laura to stop for a little while.

 

As if in answer to his thoughts, the car ahead slows, turning off of the road and into the desert. It stops a few feet from the road, half parked in a small ditch.

 

The girl gets out and immediately starts walking. He hops off the bike and chases after her, startled by the sudden change in behavior.

 

“Hey, hey, hey! Where are you going?”

 

She turns back to look at him and points at a squat wood building perched on the cliff in front of them.

 

“To the meeting place!”

 

He has no idea what meeting or what place she's talking about, but he can roll with it. He’s adaptable.

 

“Shouldn't we bring Logan?”

 

She shakes her head no, long hair whipping around her face.

 

“I need to make sure they're ready for him first.”

 

He doesn't know who we is, but she seems to know what she's doing. She's in total control of the situation.

 

“Okay, I'm going to stay here with him.”

 

She nods in acceptance and starts walking again.

 

_ Maybe I can take a nap while she's gone. _

 

He leans against his bike and closes his eyes, glad to finally be able to rest.

 

\---------

 

He’s jerked awake when Logan steps out of the car. He looks terrible; shirt bloody, deep bags under his eyes. 

 

Victor tenses, staying very still and hoping Logan doesn't see him. It's a vain hope; he's so close that Logan would be hard pressed to miss him.

 

Logan must be really out of it; he doesn't even glance around before he begins walking towards the wooden house. He doesn't see Victor, even though he's sitting right next to the car.

 

Victor watches as Logan begins to walk towards the cliff. Then, suddenly, he collapses. Victor runs to his side and check for a pulse; he's still alive.  

 

_ Looks like I'll have to go the house anyways. _

 

He picks up Logan and starts walking towards the cliffs, hoping that someone sees him coming. There's no way he can climb those, at least not with Logan, so someone's going to have to help him up.

 

Fortunately, by the time he makes it to the base of the cliffs, Laura is sliding down a rope to help him. There's a bright orange medical board attached to the bottom of the rope, like the ones they use on patients with back or neck injuries.

 

Laura helps him strap Logan onto it, then climbs up the rope to help her friends pull him up. Victor watches long enough to make sure Logan is attached well and turns away from the cliffs.

 

He walks back to the car and falls asleep as soon as he sits down.

 

\---------

 

That turns out to be the fatal mistake. He's so exhausted that he isn't registering the world around him. If they gotten in the car, he would have noticed. 

 

But they don't.

 

The children leave on foot. He doesn't notice their passage, just continues sleeping.

 

He only wakes up when Logan goes tearing past. The man is too focused to notice him, fortunately, but the urgency of running footsteps forces Victor awake.

 

He stares at Logan’s retreating back in confusion. Then, he notices the slightly stale scent trail leading from the cliffs, past the car, and into the woods.

 

_ They left?  _

 

He's caught completely off guard, sleep-drugged mind struggling to understand. He stumbles to his feet, looking around desperately, as if Laura will be hiding somewhere in the brush around him.

 

“Laura? Laura!”

 

Then he hears the screaming. It's faint, far off, but unmistakably the screams of children. 

 

He smells the cold metal and acrid tang of gunpowder that has marred every corpse he'd come across, the disgusting smell of the mutant hunters.

 

And they're attacking the children.

 

That's where Logan was going. 

 

Victor throws himself into a run, following the scent trail of the children and Logan. The screaming gets louder, more desperate. There's a few screams of adult men; the children are fighting back.

 

Then he hears Logan snarling, soldiers screaming, bodies hitting the ground.

 

He almost trips in his relief. 

 

_ Someone's there for them. He's defending them. We can save them. _

 

Then he runs into the trap. 

 

It must have been set for Logan; they don't know victor’s here. It's a semicircle of soldiers, standing in front of a pair of trucks blocking the road. 

 

He leaps at the closest, tearing into his chest. He's working his way through the soldiers, enjoying the ease with which he dispatches them, when the electricity hits him.

 

It's like a giant taser, and it hurts like hell. It's a well set trap; having a healing factor doesn't stop the electricity from shorting out his nervous system. He turns into a twitching mess, only barely able to defend himself.

 

He manages to slaughter the remaining soldiers and destroy the taser gun, but it takes way too long. He can hear Logan talking to the doctor from the house.

 

Victor runs, past the bodies of soldiers and the disturbed pine needles where the children struggled. A gun goes off, loud to his sensitive ears. Then, there's yelling, children and Logan and another Logan.

 

_ The other clone. _

 

He hears the douchebag struggling, dying. Laura screams, angry and desperate and high pitched. 

 

A body thuds. A gunshot. Another thud.

 

Laura is crying.

 

_ I'm almost there, please, hold on— _

 

“Daddy..”

 

She's whining, sobbing. He comes into the clearing, sees the children huddled on the other side. 

 

On this side, there's a fallen tree, roots sticking out like grasping arms. Logan lies against it, one of the roots sticking through him. Blood drips slowly from the wound, further staining his shirt with blood.

 

Laura sits at his side, sobbing over his body. 

 

Logan is dead.

 

His brother is dead.

 

_ I was foolish to think that I, of all people, might be able to survive the mutant apocalypse unscathed. Logan, alive, was too good to be true. _

 

_ But I wanted it to be true. God, how I wanted it to be true. _

 

_ He didn't deserve this. He was the good one of us, he should have survived. _

 

He's torn out of his thoughts when Laura looks up at him. Her face crumples and she sobs again, looking to him as if he can somehow fix this.

 

“Daddy, please!”

 

Victor steps towards her, aching for the child. 

 

_ She's so young for this, they all are. _

 

“Laura, he's gone.”

 

He reaches out a hand for her, expecting her to resist being taken away from Logan. Instead she takes his hand and stands up.

 

Suddenly, she seems unsettlingly old, staring at him with her dark eyes.

 

“He's gone like mommy.”

 

His stomach lurches. He didn't know he'd already lost someone.

 

He smiles at her weakly, head spinning, trying to focus and not break down.

 

“Yeah, like mommy. I'm sorry, honey.”

 

She only gets more intense, rage and hatred twisting her face.

 

“But we killed them. We killed the bad men who murdered mommy and daddy.”

 

Victor looks at the dead clone, brains blown out, at the doctor lying in the center of the clearing, at the unrecognizable corpse of the douchebag.

  
“Yes you did, Laura. They're dead, they can't hurt you anymore.”


	2. building a new life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to keep this story down to my preplanned three chapters, but then I saw how huge it was getting. And so many people have subscribed, I felt bad leaving you guys hanging! So here's a chapter. It cuts off pretty abruptly, sorry about that. Thanks for all the interest you guys have shown and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> tw: discussion of murder, but no real violence. Mentions of unwilling medical procedures.

\-----------

When I feel numb I'll let you know,

I won't become what I was before.

I might just lose my mind 

If I have to watch this one more time.

(Art of breaking, Thousand Foot Krutch)

\----------

 

He leads the gaggle of children across the border. They trail behind him like ducklings. Laura holds his hand, the grit from Logan’s grave digging into his palm.

 

_ There are no more guns in the valley. _

 

It’s not quite true. Transigen is a global company, no doubt they’ll come after the kids again. But at least in Canada they won’t be doing it with government support.

 

As they walk through the forest, Victor observes the other children. Like Laura, they all act too old: they walk in complete silence, no complaining or conversation at all. The younger ones stare at the ground in front of them, eyes glazed and dead. The older ones are on constant alert, craning their necks to watch their surroundings.

 

_ What the hell am I going to do. I don't know where the nearest town is, we're on foot, and I can't hunt enough to feed all these kids. I don't even know where I am. _

 

He's pulled out of his thoughts by Laura tugging on his hand. Another kid has joined them at the front of the line. He looks like he's older than Laura, maybe the oldest of them all.

 

“Mister, we have to turn here.”

 

He points at a valley that leads the opposite way from which they're going. There’s no indication of why he thinks they need to turn here.

 

“How do you know, kid?

 

“It's on our map.”

 

He pulls a tattered map out of his backpack. It looks like a road map, but the title in the corner announces it as a park map. Someone has drawn a detailed path onto it in red marker.

 

It's more than he’s got to work off of, and the kids had seemed to know where they were going when they were running for the border.

 

“Lead the way.”

 

The kid looks up at him, an unsure, judging expression on his face, as if he doesn't quite trust Victor yet.

 

“My name is Rictor.”

 

Victor nods, unable to find words to say. He’s so tired, and to see these paranoid, fearful kids only makes him feel worse. 

 

They make their way down into the valley and walk along it until the sun goes down. Once it gets dark enough that they can't walk safely, all of the kids stop in unison. 

 

Without a word, they all start working, some of them gathering firewood and others pulling supplies out of the backpacks.

 

Victor watches with trepidation; they're so organized, almost robotic. Laura pulls him towards the pile of wood they're setting up and orders him to help.

 

He helps them arrange the sticks into a cone. One of them breathes out a flame and starts a crackling fire. The food-designated kids split the rations into even piles and hand them out.

 

Laura hands him his small pile of jerky and crackers and sits down next to him to eat. She looks happy, digging into her food and smiling at her friends.

 

They settle down to sleep, the children using their backpacks as pillows. Victor lies his head on his arm and tries to get used to having people around him again. Their breathing seems too loud when he's used to only hearing his own.

 

They spend days tramping through the park. They don't have many rations; the backpacks are too small to carry much. They cut down the amount of rations per meal a few days in. Victor hunts when he can, and occasionally manages to catch a squirrel. The children chew on pine needles, trying to stop the ache in their empty stomachs.

 

Then, finally, they reach a road. Logan urges them onwards, along the asphalt, watching for a car and hoping someone will be willing to let them hitchhike.

 

At last, a truck comes along. The driver stops, staring skeptically down at the hulking man with twelve exhausted children huddled around his legs.

 

“You look like you need a ride.”

 

Victor keeps his lips sealed tight over his fangs and his hands in fists, hiding his claws. Only one of the children have noticeable mutations, and he's hiding behind Victor.

 

“That would be much appreciated, yes.”

 

“I don't have enough room in the cab for you, but I can put you in the back with the stock.”

 

“That'll be fine, thank you.”

 

Once they're squished amongst the boxes in the back of the truck, it starts again and rumbles down the road. The children sag against the boxes, exhausted eyes finally closing. One of the boys plays with little lightings storms, sending electricity crackling across the metal walls.

 

Victor doesn't sleep. He stays up and keeps watch, ears and nose on constant alert. Being around people again makes it easier for Transigen to track them.

 

The children take turns keeping watch, so that there’s always one person awake along with Victor. When they had time to set up shifts, he doesn't know. 

 

_ Maybe they have a telepath. That would explain their wordless organization. And if the telepath is a kid, they're probably not strong enough to break through my mental shields yet. _

 

He lets his shields down, slowly, carefully. A few seconds later, there's the familiar burn of a telepath inserting themselves into his head.

 

_ It's about time. _

 

_ You could have just asked me. _

 

_ You didn't seem aware of your shields. I didn't think you knew you had them. _

 

_ Huh. I hadn't really thought about them, it's an old instinct.  _

 

_ From the mutant days. When they could pick sides. When the brotherhood and the x-men fought across the earth. _

 

_ Yes. You know about us? _

 

_ They taught us about you. How you were destructive, vicious and hateful. They told us not to be evil like you, but then they taught us how to kill. It didn't make sense. We didn't like them. _

 

_ They wanted you to be weapons. _

 

_ They hurt us. We hurt them back. _

 

_ We may have been foolish and violent in the mutant days, but at least we didn't torture children. Even Magneto didn't indoctrinate mutants as young as you. _

 

_ Magneto. They told us he was the worst. _

 

_ He was the leader of the brotherhood. He was a ruthless leader. _

 

_ They made us from you, you know. _

 

_ What? _

 

_ They showed us the old mutants. They didn't think we were smart enough to notice that we had the same powers as the x-men and the brotherhood. _

 

_ Laura. She's Logan’s blood kid. _

 

_ Rictor is Magneto’s. He can control metal. Jack is storm’s. He can control lighting. I'm Psy, I'm Xavier’s daughter. The others are lesser known mutants, we never did figure out their parents. _

 

_ How dare they. All those bodies I saw, with the samples taken out of them. They were  _ **_harvesting_ ** _ us. They made our children and we didn't even know it. _

 

Psy tilts her head, looking at Victor curiously.

 

_ You're angry. For us? _

 

_ Yes. For you. You should have had loving parents, happy childhoods. And all the mutants, they deserved better than being unwilling donors. _

 

She smiles at him, a knowing, sharp smile. 

 

_ You're very angry. And mean, underneath. You weren't a good guy, in the mutant days, were you. _

 

_ No. I was a murderer, and for no reason. _

 

_ But you're strong. And you protected us. You will kill for us. I think you are the best parent we could have, in these times. _

 

Victor’s heart aches. He wants to give them more. More than blood, more than pain and death. But he doesn't know if he can. He's never been good at loving, at being gentle. Logan would have been better at this.

 

Psy inches closer, her eyes glowing.

 

_ You were part of the brotherhood. The murderous ones, who killed humans. Who took revenge for mutants who has been hurt. Tell me what it was like. Tell me how to take revenge. _

 

_ It’s satisfying, but also not. Nothing will stop the hurt that's already done, nothing will fill the hole they made in you. But taking revenge, it makes them regret. It makes them regret hurting you, and they won't hurt anyone ever again, once they're dead. _

 

_ Like the doctor. He can't make more of us, because he's dead. _

 

_ Yes.  _

 

_ What was it like in the mutant days? What was it like, having others like you. _

 

_ It was wonderful. Some of us were good, some of us were bad, but all of us were powerful. Feeling powerful, that's the most amazing feeling in the world. When you stop being the one who hurts and become the one who does the hurting. _

 

She pulls an image from his head, of the brotherhood. They're standing on a building, Magneto hovering over their heads like an avenging angel. The brotherhood are predators, prepared to jump down upon the humans below them.

 

_ You look like a us. Like a family. _

 

_ No. We never were that close. We were just allies.  _

 

_ What about her? _

 

She pulls out an image of Mystique.

 

_ Mystique. She was one of the brotherhood, and very close to Magneto. And she was amazing. She could shapeshift into anyone. She knew how to fight, could take down anyone who crossed her. _

 

An image, of Mystique, thighs locked around a soldier’s neck. 

 

_ I want to be like her. _

 

_ You already are. All of you are. Powerful, and angry. They tried to push you down and you rose up and made them pay. Mystique would approve, I think. _

 

_ But my father wouldn't.  _

 

_ Xavier. No, he probably wouldn't. He thought we could have peace. He didn't want us to hurt humans. _

 

_ But we can't have peace. They destroyed all the old mutants, except for you. And then they made us and used us and hurt us. Peace was never an option for us. _

 

_ Xavier is dead now. They killed him, and all the peaceful mutants, just like they killed the brotherhood. Like you said, peace was never an option. _

 

_ So are we right? Or is Xavier right? Are we bad and evil because we killed?  _

 

_ You didn't have a choice, Psy. Transigen would have killed you if you hadn't killed them first. _

 

_ But I enjoyed it. And I want to kill the rest of them, so that we can be safe. Isn't that wrong? _

 

_ I don't know. _

 

_ How can you not know?  _

 

She says it with the assurance of a child who knows that adults are supposed to know everything. He rubs at his eyes, too tired to think up something to placate her.

 

_ You killed, even before the world was like this. How can you not know? _

 

_ I just don't know, Psy. _

 

Laura shifts next to him. She opens her eyes and sits up, rubbing at her face groggily. Then she turns to him and smiles.

 

She starts digging through the backpack. She pulls out a smartphone in a pink case and a phone charger. She holds it out to him.

 

“For you.”

 

He tries to turn it on, but the screen stays black. It must be out of power.

 

“What's this for?”

 

“It's the proof.”

 

“Of what?”

 

“How they hurt us.”

 

His breath catches.

 

“You have video?”

 

“Yes. Mommy took it, before we left.”

 

_ This could change everything. _

 

_ You're thinking mean again. What is it? _

 

_ This might help us take revenge. In a different way than killing them. In a more complete way. _

 

_ Complete. You're going to help us hurt them? Get complete revenge? _

 

He smiles at her, baring his fangs.

 

_ Of course. _

 

_ \---------- _

 

The truck finally comes to a stop. Rictor had given the driver the name of the town on their map, where they were supposed to go. He pulls open the back doors, letting in the sunlight. The children blink and shield their eyes.

 

“We're here.”

 

Victor helps the children out of the truck and thanks the driver. He nods and goes on his way, leaving them staring at the town.

 

It’s tiny, centered around one main road. There’s a Walmart, a tiny grocery store, a bank, and a gas station. Everything else is run down houses, and beyond that, wilderness.

 

Victor looks down at himself, then at the kids. They're covered in dirt and occasionally blood. There's no way they can walk into one of those stores without getting the police called on them. They'll probably think he kidnapped the kids or something.

 

He hurries the kids into the woods on the side of the road. He sniffs the air and starts leading them towards the smell of water. The kids don't ask what he’s doing; they must have decided to trust him.

 

They come out into a clearing. There’s a small lake, that doesn't look like it belongs to anyone. He pushes them towards the bank.

 

“Get cleaned up. I'm going to buy us new clothes. While I'm gone, Laura and Rictor are in charge. If there’s danger, don't bother coming back for me, just run. And scream; I'll be able to hear you.”

 

Psy tugs at his sleeve. 

 

“If you keep your shields down, I can keep us in constant contact.”

 

“Thanks, Psy.”

 

He smiles at Rictor and pats Laura on the shoulder. Psy nestles herself in the back of his head, mental link muted. He turns and walks back to the town, pulling out his wallet. He barely has any money left, but it should be enough to buy some cheap clothes.

 

As he enters the Walmart, the cashier watches him nervously, but doesn't confront him. A giant, musclebound man covered in blood and dirt is a lot less suspicious than the same man with twelve young kids.

 

He goes through the aisles, picking up baggy shirts and pants made out of tough, dependable fabric. The kids can wear their dirty jackets, that isn't too suspicious. They can wear their sneakers too, he doesn't need to buy them new shoes.

 

As he’s heading to the checkout, a rack of stuffed animals stares at him. They're cheap, ugly things, with a bright sign that proclaims: “buy one get one free!”.

 

_ He shouldn't. They still need to get food. _

 

But he thinks of Laura, who only smiles when she gets food. Of Psy, who talked about revenge and killing as if it was the only pleasurable thing she'd ever experienced. About Rictor, who lead the group without complaining, comfortable with all that responsibility on his shoulders.

 

And having something to hang on to, a security blanket, especially something personalized and cute, might help them feel less like hunted animals and more like children.

 

He stares at the variety of animals, wondering what type each child would like. He gets Laura a lion. Jack gets an electric eel, Rictor gets an elephant, Psy gets a cat, Rosie gets a bird, Fang gets a crocodile, Sky gets a fox...

 

He walks towards the checkout, arms full of stuffed animals. The cashier looks torn between laughing at him and flinching away in fear. Victor is fully aware of how absurd he looks, and ignores the cashier’s stare.

 

He’s left with only about five dollars. He goes to the clearance rack at the front of the Walmart, where the days old bread is on sale. It's only about a dollar per loaf, so he gets two big loaves of bread. He also buys a jar of peanut butter. Not the most nutritious, but it'll fill their stomachs and keep them going until they can make more money. 

 

He jumps when sound comes through the mind link, ready to run to the kid’s defense. But it’s not a cry for help, it's the sound of happy kids laughing and water splashing. He smiles and leaves the store, making his way back to them.

 

When he returns to the lake, Jack is using his powers to dunk Laura under the surface. Rosie is making the lake plants grow, tickling Psy’s feet and making her giggle and twist away. Sky is by herself, staring at the surface of the lake, occasionally breathing ice onto it and watching the water freeze.

 

Victor smiles at them and begins lying the clothes out on the bank so that they can pick what outfit they want.

 

He turns away from the lake and starts making up peanut butter sandwiches. He’s almost done with the first loaf when he hears splashing and giggling behind him. 

 

Quiet footsteps approach him, but he doesn't turn around. He’s utterly unprepared for the bucket’s worth of water that splashes down on him. The giggling starts up again, turning into full blown, devilish laughter.

 

He shakes the water out of his hair and turns around. Jack is levitating a second bubble of water, this one snowball sized. Laura grins at him from next to Jack.

 

“Get him!”

 

Victor yelps and tries to dodge, but the water is mutant-controlled and swerves. It hits him straight in the face. He growls and runs his fingers through his soaking hair, and starts flicking the water at Laura and Jack. They shriek in mock horror and flee back to the lake.

 

He gives them a few more minutes to splash around before calling them back to the bank. They come, smiling and clean. They pick their new clothes, occasionally squabbling over a shirt with a certain design, and go into the bushes to change.

 

When they come back, he hands them sandwiches. They supplement it with the leftover jerky and crackers; a pitiful attempt at a celebratory meal. While they eat, Victor rinses off in the lake.

 

When they’re done eating and he's dried off, he pulls out the plastic bag with the stuffed animals. Their eyes go wide as he pulls out the first one. He hands the lion to Laura and goes down the line, handing them out.

 

Laura stares into its plastic eyes, entranced. Rictor grins at his, making it’s trunk wiggle. Rosie gasps and claps her hands excitedly. Psy hugs hers to her chest. Fang holds his out to Victor.

 

“Look, it has fangs like me! And the eyes are like me too!”

 

In an instant, they've transformed from the battle hardened weapons Transigen wanted into excited little kids. Victor grins at them proudly and decides to make them happy like this more often.

 

He cleans up the trash they've left behind and dumps their dirty, torn clothes in the woods. He makes sure they've put their stuffed animals in their backpacks, as they've all become intensely attached already.

 

He leads them out of the woods, towards the town, wondering what to do now. Rictor walks at his side and pulls the map out again.

 

“We’re supposed to go the bank now, and open the security box under the name Laura. The passcode is 3609.”

 

Relief makes him sag.

 

“You have money?”

 

“In the box. And there's a safe house in the outskirts too.”

 

Victor grins down at him.

 

“Whoever helped you with this knew what they were doing.”

 

They enter the bank, startling a bored looking employee. The kids spot the bowl of lollipops on the counter and swarm like the hungry scavengers they are. Victor ignores the bad manners of his adopted children and hands the claim slip for the box to the employee.

 

“You’d like to open the box and remove the contents today, mister...?”

 

“Creed. Yes, I want to empty it today.”

 

The employee walks over to the wall of boxes. Victor follows, leaving the children arguing over whether butterscotch tastes like butter or not. The employee gestures to the keypad on the box. Victor enters the code, ready to grab the kids and run if the code is wrong.

 

But the door pops open right away. Victor reaches in and pulls out an envelope. He opens it; inside there's two folded pieces of paper, a debit card, and a key.

 

He unfolds the pieces of paper. One is the deed for a house. The other has the pin for the debit card written on it, and the account balance: 1,000 dollars.

 

Victor nods at the employee. 

 

“Will you be needing this box still? Or would you like to forfeit it?”

 

“I'll forfeit it, thank you.”

 

“A pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Creed.”

 

Victor tries not to rush back to the kids. They all perk up and pay attention to him as soon as they see him coming. He gestures for them to follow him and they leave the bank.

 

“Okay. The house which we apparently own now is number 22 on oak ridge street. I have no idea where that is, but this a small town, so if we walk down the main road we’ll eventually find it.”

 

The children nod agreeably and follow him down the shoulder of the main road. It's a pleasantly warm day, the soft hum of cicadas filling the air. The town is sleepy, with almost no cars on the road to bother them.

 

As they pass wildflowers, Rosie picks them and makes the cut flowers grow around her wrists in living bracelets. Rictor kicks rocks down the road and makes the soda caps they pass levitate in a colorful mass.

 

Victor wants to tell them not to use their powers so visibly, but there's no one around and they're enjoying themselves, so he stays quiet.

 

They pass multiple cross streets, but none with the right name. The houses are small and worn, but mostly well kept. A dog barks at them from a yard. It's all very domestic; hard to adjust to after running for their lives.

 

He doesn't trust it. Transigen will come after them again, and who knows if the townspeople will help them or betray them.

 

They finally come to oak ridge. Victor steers the children down the street, looking for house numbers. Number 22 is the last one, at the very end of the cul de sac. Its yard is overgrown and the shutters are closed.

 

Victor tells the children to wait on the sidewalk and approaches the house. No humans have been here in the last month; all the scents are stale. He climbs the steps to the porch and unlocks the door.

 

He checks the house before letting the kids come in, even though his nose has never failed him before. It's got two bedrooms, a living room, one bathroom, a kitchen, and a basement. There’s no one hiding inside, so he yells at the kids to come in.

 

There’s two couches shoved into the living room, with stacks of pillows and blankets on them. Whoever got the house ready was planning for a lot of people. There’s two normal beds, large enough for two children each, and the two couches. 

 

Laura finds a pair of air mattresses shoved in one of the bedroom closets. Victor sets Rictor and Sky to blowing them up. He assigns the other kids to laying out blankets and pillows on the couches and the bed.

 

He makes sure the front door is locked and heads down to the basement. It’s not a normal basement, it's stocked for survival. There’s cans of food along the wall, first aid kits piled in the corner, and survival equipment stacked by the doorway:

 

Jugs of sealed, clean water. Matches and firewood. A few cooking implements. Packages of freeze dried food. And there, sitting on top, a pile of guns. 

 

There’s a rifle, a shotgun, and a handgun. They don't have much use for them with their mutant powers, but it's reassuring nonetheless.

 

He walks back upstairs to find that the children have finished setting up the beds and congregated in the kitchen. Rictor is digging through the envelope to get the debit card.

 

“You looking to buy something?”

 

Rictor nods and pulls out the pin, staring at it as if he's memorizing it.

 

“We will need to stock the house with food.”

 

“I think you better let me handle that.”

 

Victor doesn't want to anger Rictor; he is a strong leader and fully capable of shopping, but they are in a different situation now. If they see a kid with Victor, who was just seen entering the town covered in blood, it's probably not going to turn out well. And there’s no way Victor is letting him go alone.

 

Rictor tenses for a moment, ready to fight, but relaxes a moment later. He's worked through the same logic as Victor. He holds out the card and the pin.

 

“You should probably look for a job while you're out, that money won't last forever.”

 

Victor nods. 

 

“You guys stay safe while I'm gone. Keep the doors and windows locked, don't open the door for anyone. If you sense anything dangerous, run. Hide in the woods. I should be able to track your scent and join you when it’s safe.”

 

The children nod. Victor takes the house key as well and heads out, locking the door behind him. He walks the ten minute walk back to town and enters the grocery store.

 

Once inside he freezes. When he shops for himself he just gets the nasty, cheap food that would probably shorten his lifespan by ten years if he didn't have a healing factor. He can't feed kids that, they have to grow up healthy.

 

What does he need for them to be healthy? He wanders down the aisles, staring in despair at the countless options.

 

_ Okay. Start with the basics. _

 

He buys bread and deli meat to make sandwiches. That's protein and carbs, at least. He stumbles into the dairy section and notices the milk. He doesn't drink it, but aren't kids supposed to? Something about their bones growing?

 

He throws a couple gallons in the cart and heads towards the produce section.  Vegetables and green shit is healthy, he knows that much. But once he gets there, he’s once again lost. Most of them have to be cooked, and he has no idea how to do that.

 

He grabs a few packages of pre peeled carrots, those he knows you can eat raw. He grabs a couple bags of lettuce, salads are healthy, right?

 

Then he finds the pasta aisle and picks up pasta and sauce. They need something good for dinner and this is nice and simple. 

 

_ I need to research this. I have no idea how to care for kids. _

 

As he pushes the cart through the checkout, he stares at the magazine rack. There's a few that boast healthy eating, but judging by the unhealthily skinny people on the front, they're diet magazines and thus useless.

 

_ What I really need is internet. I bet there's all sorts of information out there. _

 

He pays for the groceries and crosses the street to the Walmart. He buys a cheap touch phone and the least expensive data plan they have. As he’s checking out, he strikes up a conversation with the salesman.

 

“I’m new in town. Anybody hiring?”

 

“The Simmons farm down the road always could use an extra pair of hands. It's hard, dirty work, but it pays.”

 

Victor takes the plastic bag with phone and nods in thanks to the salesman. He leaves as quickly as possible and walks back to the house, antsy when he’s away from the kids.

 

He pushes open the door and kicks off his shoes in the entryway. From the kitchen, he can hear Laura and Rictor quietly arguing and water bubbling as it boils. From the room beyond, there’s some sort of tv show on, which the other kids are excitedly singing along with.

 

He steps into the kitchen, smiling at Rictor and Laura, who are leaning over the stove to stare into the pot of boiling water. Psy must have told them he was planning to make pasta tonight. He hands Rictor the pack of spaghetti and the boy goes back to staring at the water, waiting to put it into the pot.

 

Victor doesn't bother them, just walks over to the fridge and pulls out the lettuce. He washes it in the sink, watching with amusement as Laura attempts to break the spaghetti in half. 

 

It isn't a clean break, as she’s had very little practice, so small pieces of pasta go skittering across the floor. She hisses like an angry cat and stomps her foot in irritation. Rictor quickly leans down to start picking up the runaway pieces.

 

Victor finishes washing the lettuce, snarling in irritation as his claws rip the delicate leaves into pieces. At least they make ripping the lettuce into salad size pieces easier.

 

Rictor is stirring the pasta as Laura pulls the jars of pasta sauce out of the fridge. Psy pulls herself away from the tv and enters the kitchen. She wordlessly offers to help and Victor tells her to start pulling bowls and silverware.

 

They settle down to eat, the children watching tv rushing to the table as Psy sets the places. Rictor drains the pasta and Laura begins to spoon it into bowls. Victor brings the giant bowl of salad and the bottle of dressing.

 

The children chatter excitedly as Rictor hands out the bowls before settling down in their seats. They dig in, finally getting a real meal. Victor smiles at them proudly and makes sure they all take some salad.

 

\---------

 

The next day he walks down to the Simmonds farm. It's not that far from the house, which helps put his protective mind at ease. He knocks on the house’s front door, but no one comes out. He waits until he's sure no one’s home and then walks over to the barn. 

 

He knocks on the rickety barn door, which swings open slightly at the touch. A man shuffles out of the darkness, pitchfork in hand, old enough to not be threatening but still tall and strong. He looks Victor up and down with a not unfriendly but still judgment eye, and then nods slightly. Apparently, Victor has passed the first test.

 

“What do you want, son?”

 

“I was told you have work that'll you pay me to do.”

 

The man huffs.

 

“I won't pay you anything more than minimum wage.”

 

“I'm not picky.”

 

“Good. You see those stables down the road?”

 

It's a small stable made of red painted wood, just a few meters down the road. Horses graze in the enclosures behind it.

 

“Take this and shovel them out.”

 

The farmer pulls a worn shovel out of the barn and hands it to Victor. Victor wrinkles his nose; with his enhanced senses, he can already smell the stench of horse poop from here. He growls, taking a few reluctant steps forwards.

 

_ It's for the kids. _

_\----------_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing sabretooth is interesting; he is, after all, a pretty bad guy. I'm trying to keep his character accurate while still writing my softer version of him that would actually take care of kids.
> 
> Just a disclaimer because sometimes I get villain sympathizers commenting on my stuff: murder is still bad guys! these characters are in an extreme situation where it's self defense, but that doesn't excuse all the innocent people sabretooth killed before. As much as you may like him, please don't start woobifying him.


End file.
